Loss of Memory
by MoonytheMarauder1
Summary: Andromeda Tonks works at a small coffee shop each day, then goes home to spend the evening with her husband, Ted. It seems like any other life, but one thing is different: Andromeda's memory of everything that happened to her before five years ago is gone. She's learned to live with it, but one day, a piece of her past comes back into her life.


**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts and Camp Potter.**

 **Hogwarts: Geography Task 11: Write about someone who was lost but isn't anymore.**

 **Camp Potter: Tie Dye Station: Coffee shop!AU, (character) Andromeda Tonks, (dialogue) "What are you saying?"**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. Those rights go to JK Rowling.**

 **Thanks to Kim for beta'ing!**

 **Word Count: 3800**

 **Enjoy!**

Andromeda Tonks ran a hand over her five-month bump, glad to finally be on her break. Working at a coffee shop wasn't exactly hard labor, but the pregnancy was making her feet hurt. She took a sip of her mocha and hummed with pleasure. She'd been working all day, and her eight-hour shift was hardly over. Still, her little family needed every penny they could get, what with Nymphadora on the way.

Andromeda and her husband Ted had known each other for as long as she could remember, which wasn't as impressive as it seemed. Five years ago, Andromeda had woken up in a hospital with no clue why she was there or who she could contact. Her memory had been completely jumbled— she could vaguely recall a tall, dark house and a few faceless people, but her name was the only thing she was certain of.

The nurses and doctors had told her what they'd known piece by piece. She had been in a car accident— her vehicle had been found smashed against a cluster of trees, a little ways off of a back road in the abandoned countryside. She had hit her head very hard, and while there had been no permanent brain damage, the doctors believed that the injury had caused a loss of long-term memory.

With only her first name as a clue, the authorities had been unable to track down any friends or family, even when they put her name and picture in the papers. She had slowly begun to accept the reality that she would have to build a new life, without the foundations of her old one. It had been terrifying, and she had experienced many panic attacks. But the man who had found her in her ruined car and had called an ambulance went even further— he stuck by her during therapy, even paid for some of her treatments, and helped her get back on her feet. He started her off with a job at the coffee shop, then invited her to stay with him so she didn't have to use her money on housing. She had protested at first, but eventually contented herself with sneaking a portion of her wage into his wallet. After a year of this he had caught on, and the month after that, the two of them had begun dating.

She and Ted had been married two years later.

Andromeda drained the last of her mocha and stood up. Her burgundy apron (part of her work uniform) hung down awkwardly over her bulging belly, but it didn't bother her— she carried her daughter with pride. She walked over to the trash can to dispose of her empty cup, briefly wondering, not for the first time, what her own parents had done for a living.

While Andromeda was very happy with her husband and daughter, she couldn't help but wish for information from her past life. What were her parents' names? Had she had any siblings or cousins? What was her old surname?

As much as she longed for the answers to these questions, a part of her did _not_ want to know. After all, her story had been spread through almost every form of communication available— either her family lived too far away to get the news, or they weren't looking.

Something deep within her told her that it was the latter.

The rest of the day, Andromeda mixed and served drinks, and tried not to cringe when older couples asked her if she was nearing her due date. Nymphadora was a large baby.

Once her shift had ended, Andromeda hung up her apron and walked out to her car, driving carefully like always; the last thing she wanted was to get in another wreck and forget everyone all over again. When she reached the apartment she shared with Ted, the sun was beginning to dip towards the horizon. She took a moment to bask in its beauty before she headed inside. She pulled out her braid, letting her dark curly hair fall loosely about her shoulders. She hung up her keys and headed into the sitting room, where Ted was on the edge of his seat, immersed in a game of football on the telly.

"Hello, love," she greeted warmly.

Ted looked up, startled, and then his face broke into a grin. "Dromeda! How was your day? And how," He stood up eagerly, his eyes on her stomach. "was our little elf?"

Andromeda laughed, swatting at her husband as his blue eyes sparkled with mirth. "I told you not to call her that! Just because her name is Nymphadora—"

"She'll hate us forever," Ted chuckled. "She'll change her name to something sensible, like, er… Ruth, or Bella, and she won't ever have us over when there's company because she'll always be our little _Nymphadora_."

Andromeda chuckled, but her mind was whirling. This happened sometimes, and she had no idea why. Certain words would trigger _almost-memories_ — serious, black, Orion, now Bella— but she was unable to recall anything that could help her decipher the clues. All she had was the familiarity of the words.

Her brown eyes locked onto Ted's. "Bella. That's another one."

She always made sure to tell Ted if a new one popped up. He was careful not to say them again— while _serious_ was very difficult not to slip into a conversation, neglecting to point out Orion when they went stargazing was much easier— and she knew that he filed them away for later. Ted had never given up on finding her family, as he knew how much she missed them. She appreciated it greatly, and pretended it was still a secret.

The two wrapped up their night and went to bed. In the morning, they would go through the same, happy routine as always.

Or so they had assumed.

* * *

Andromeda's morning at the coffee shop passed much like it always did. There were the rude customers and polite ones, the regulars and the new-to-towns. It wasn't until lunchtime that anything unusual happened.

"Hello," she greeted a dark-haired man. His eyes were downcast, but she could tell that he was very handsome. He looked to be around seventeen or eighteen, and for some reason, that was important to her. "What can I get for you today, sir?"

"Er, yeah. I'll have a— what's good?"

He seemed very distracted, and still refused to look directly at her, which miffed her. He seemed to be staring at her swollen belly.

She sighed inwardly. "I always enjoy the mochas, myself. But I've heard that the cappuccinos are good as well."

The young man sighed heavily. "I'll have an espresso. Please."

Annoyed that he'd already had an order ready, she rang up his drink a bit grumpily. She looked back up at him. "Can I have a name for the order, please?"

The teenager grunted. "Sirius."

Andromeda blinked, her head beginning to ache. "Yes, I'm serious. Please sir, you're holding up the line."

The boy— for no one this immature could possibly be considered an adult— rolled his eyes. "I wasn't joking. Blame my parents. My name is _Sirius_. You know— S-I-R-I-U-S. Could I have my drink now, _please?"_

Embarrassed, Andromeda muttered an apology and got his drink together. She heard one of the customers in line chuckle meanly.

"Give the lass a break, lad. She lost her memory just a few years back— must have knocked a couple of screws loose."

Andromeda's face burned, but to her shock, the boy whipped around angrily.

"Why don't you just shut your trap, you—"

"Oh, I know you didn't just say that about my wife, you—"

She'd been so flustered, she hadn't even seen Ted come in. Now he and the stranger were shouting at the cowering man in line, and she was just standing there in shock. They made quite an impressive team, she thought distractedly. The boy was shouting insults while Ted was yelling out all of her assets, and she was both annoyed and touched. Finally, afraid that her manager would come out to investigate the commotion, Andromeda ran out from behind the counter and stood in between the three men.

"Enough!" She scolded. "Or I'll kick all three of you out." She couldn't really, only the manager could do that, but they didn't know that.

They quieted almost immediately. She grabbed the espresso she had prepared, keeping one eye on the rude man in line, then walked over to the young man and handed him his drink. She told him the price, and retreated back behind the counter. Her hands shaking slightly (pregnancy hormones were messing with her again), she looked at her concerned husband.

"I go on break in five minutes," she told him.

He nodded, then ran a hand through his shaggy brown hair. He cut through the other startled customers and leaned over the counter. "I love you, Dromeda." He pecked her on the lips, the kiss steadying her nerves. "See you in five minutes."

Sirius came over to pay as Ted walked out to grab them a table outside. As he dug around in his pockets for cash, he glanced up briefly, his handsome features paling. "What— er, what did he call you?"

"Who, Ted?" she asked, surprised by the question. "Dromeda. Short for Andromeda."

Sirius' money spilled out of his hands, the coins clanging and rolling all over the counter. "An- Andy?"

Her brow furrowed. "My name is _Andromeda_."

"Black," gasped Sirius, looking at once horrified and gleeful. "Andromeda _Black_."

That uncomfortable sensation washed over her again, and she quickly counted out his money without bothering to push the change back at him.

"You heard what that man said," she whispered harshly. "I don't _remember_. Leave me be."

Sirius' face fell, the excitement draining out of his grey eyes. "What are you saying?"

Andromeda glared at him. He had jumped to her defense, which she was grateful for, but she'd just been humiliated and didn't want a reminder of her broken memory. "It means, take your drink and go."

Sirius looked surprised. Something akin to determination shining in his eyes, he left the shop. He lingered outside the doors for a moment, and Andromeda held her breath until he left. Still, she remained shaken, and Ted could tell as she sat down next to him on her break.

Ted reached out and grabbed her hand. "Dromeda. Don't listen to that guy— you're a smart, beautiful woman. A little memory gap doesn't change that."

Andromeda smiles gently at him. It didn't seem like much, but it meant the world to her that Ted had put the word "smart" before "beautiful". Ted's love ran deeper than the skin.

Her smile wavered, however, when she recalled the incident inside. "It's just so _hard_ sometimes," she admitted, willing away the tears that had sprung up in her eyes; the hormones loved to mess with her emotions. "I want to remember those things. My maiden name. My mother's face— I don't know anything, Ted! How can I be expected to be a good mother," Her hands found her baby bump. "if I can't even remember my own?"

"Trust me, Andy, you're not missing anything."

Ted and Andromeda jumped, startled. They turned to see Sirius coming around a corner, a hesitant smile on his face. Andromeda pressed her lips together, angry and embarrassed that this stranger had been listening in on her moment of weakness. Ted, frowning, addressed Sirius.

"What are you doing here? Leave my wife alone."

Apparently not noticing the threat underlying his words, Sirius looked stunned. "Wife? Wait, you're—"

He fell silent when he caught sight of the ring gleaming on her finger.

Ted stood up, uncharacteristically furious. "Please leave us alone," he ground out. "This is none of your business, and I don't appreciate you listening in on our conversation."

Sirius held his hands up in surrender, still a bit dazed. "Woah, mate. I just want to talk." He turned to Andromeda. "I know you. Andy, you know me."

Andromeda sat up straighter, wary of his words. "I've told you before. My name is Andromeda. If you have something to say, do so now. But if you are messing with me or my family, then you _will_ regret it."

Sirius nodded, and without invitation he pulled out a chair at their table and sat down. He took a deep breath, but Andromeda could see the childish excitement behind his eyes. "Your name is Andromeda, you said. Did you— when you lost your memory, how long ago was it? Five years?"

Andromeda blinked, caught off guard. She glanced at Ted and discovered that he was just as stunned as she was. "Yes," she answered slowly. "But how did you—"

"That's," Sirius interrupted. "when my cousin— Andromeda Black— disappeared. Here, I have a picture."

He rifled through his pockets and produced a battered photograph of two people, a boy and a girl. The boy was clearly a much younger Sirius, smiling toothily at the camera. And sitting beside him was—

"Ted," gasped Andromeda. "Oh, Ted, _look_."

The girl in the picture looked just like her. Same hair, eyes, nose— even the same cluster of freckles on her right shoulder. There really was no mistaking it; that was her in the picture.

It was so odd, holding this piece of her past in her hands. It was familiar, but at the same time, felt so foreign. This photograph seemed _right_ ; it seemed to fit correctly in the puzzle of her mind. But on the other hand, she lacked the real memory— it was as though she had finally found the missing puzzle piece, only to find that the puzzle had gone missing. Her hands trembled. In them she held a taste of what she had forgotten; it both elated and terrified her.

Ted leaned over and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "You don't have to take in all of this now," he reminded her. "You can sleep on it, and we can call Sirius in the morning, and he can finish explaining."

Slowly, Andromeda nodded. Ted was right; this _was_ a lot to take in, and she wasn't sure that she was ready emotionally yet. Still, the last thing she needed was to be kept up all night wondering…

"Just… just tell me how we know each other," she whispered, not taking her eyes off of the picture. "Then you can leave your number and I'll call you in the morning? If that's all right with you?"

Sirius grinned and nodded. "Of course. Andy, I… I'm really glad that I found you." He took a deep breath. "We're cousins."

* * *

Despite her fears, Andromeda slept soundly through the night. She woke up earlier than usual, though, and stared at the ceiling for a few minutes, unmoving, as she recalled the events of the previous day.

Cousins. She had a cousin. Which made her wonder— were there more? Siblings, aunts, uncles… just who, exactly, was out there? And if Sirius has been so excited to find her, would they be, too? But then… why hadn't she heard anything before now?

As much as she wanted to find her family, the notion scared her quite a bit. Family was important, and she couldn't help but think about what Sirius had said. _Trust me, Andy, you're not missing anything._ It didn't bode well.

Lying on her back didn't feel so good with a baby pressing down on her spinal cord, so she rolled over on her side. Ted, who was a very light sleeper, woke up at her unrest. He searched groggily for her hand and squeezed it, offering his silent support. Andromeda felt an overwhelming wave of affection for the man in front of her wash over her. This was Ted Tonks, the kind-hearted man who had done everything he could to help a hurt stranger, who always knew just how she was feeling and never failed to offer support, who defended her from insensitive customers in a coffee shop when he visited her on break, who stood beside her through every storm that came their way without complaint. This was the father of her baby, and she couldn't ask for a better one.

Teary now, she moved closer to him and hugged him tightly. "I love you," she mumbled into his shoulder. "I love you _so much_."

She felt Ted slide his arms around her back, returning the embrace. "I love you too, Dromeda. More than anything." He pulled back slightly so he could look her in the eyes. "Whatever happens today, I'll be right there beside you. And you've already gained at least one family member."

He smiled, but Andromeda knew that he feared the same thing she did— that the Blacks had not been looking for her.

She breathed in the scent of coffee and grass, which was so uniquely Ted; he drank coffee like it'd save his life, and loved to play football with his mates on the weekend. Well, the Blacks may not have been looking for her, but she was comforted by the knowledge that Ted always would.

And he always found her.

* * *

Once Andromeda and Ted returned home from work, they rang up Sirius and invited him over. He surprised them by arriving on a motorbike; Andromeda had always viewed them as death traps, because of her accident in a much safer vehicle. Soon enough, Sirius was knocking on their apartment door, and she let him in, trying not to think about how drastically her life was about to change. When she did, she was tempted to leave him outside.

They greeted the young man warmly, and they made their way into the sitting room, where they all lowered themselves into an armchair. The silence that followed was thick enough to be cut with a knife, but Andromeda has no idea how to ease the tension. Finally, Ted took the lead.

"Sirius." He cleared his throat. "You have something to tell us? About Andromeda's family— your family?"

Sirius shifted, looking decidedly uncomfortable. Andromeda could feel her nerves increasing tenfold. "Erm, yeah," he mumbled. "You see, our family isn't… they're terrible people"

The floor was swept out from under her. She had known that this was a possibility, but to have it confirmed…

"They're bigots," Sirius admitted quickly. "Hate anyone who's different from them, think that those who're poorer than them are inferior… My parents have always despised me for thinking differently than they do. And you never much liked their views either. So one day, when you'd had enough, you just… left. You told— you told me you'd come back when I was old enough and take me out." The last part was a whispered confession, a sign of weakness that Sirius was obviously loathe to display but felt obligated to show her.

Even though there was no way she could have known about it, Andromeda still felt a pang of guilt at his words. She reached over (somewhat awkwardly due to her swollen stomach) and took Sirius' hand.

"Sirius," she murmured, "if I'd known… I didn't leave you there on purpose."

Sirius looked up, his torment clear in his eyes. "I know that. I just wish I'd known that before. I spent so long… being mad at you. Which is stupid, I know—"

"It's not stupid at all," Andromeda interrupted sternly. "Neither of us had any way of knowing what had happened to the other. But Sirius— I don't… I don't _remember_ what we did before. I don't remember how close we were, and I can't pick up where we left off. But I can— I can start again. If you want to."

Sirius swallowed thickly. "Yeah," he said roughly. "I'd like that."

Sirius went on to tell her about their family. As it turned out, she had two sisters, Bellatrix and Narcissa, neither of which she liked very much, but apparently Cissy was all right. Bella, Sirius informed her, was actually insane. Her parents were Druella and Cygnus Black, who'd never be supportive of her marriage to Ted. Sirius had one brother, Regulus, who was beginning to side with the rest of the family, much to Sirius' dismay. Walburga and Orion Black, Sirius' parents, ran a very strict household and had treated Sirius like the dirt beneath their shoes.

And then he told her how she must have gotten into her accident.

"They disowned you," he explained softly. "You told them you wouldn't marry the bloke they'd chosen for you, and they burned you off the family tapestry. But really, that's the highest honor a Black could ask for. I was finally disowned just last week."

He did indeed look proud, but Andromeda felt sick. She had wanted for so long to find her family, the people who were supposed to love her unconditionally. What she'd found were men and women who'd cast out their own daughter because she didn't believe in their discrimination. She closed her eyes, her head spinning. Two sisters and a cousin she was estranged from. Parents who didn't want anything to do with her and an aunt and uncle who felt the same. Part of her wished she was still left wondering.

But then, she'd never have known about Sirius. And he may be pretending otherwise, but he needed her just as much as she needed him.

She opened her eyes and smiled gently at him. "You think I was upset about the disowning and eventually crashed into that tree."

Sirius nodded. "It seems most likely. How… what happened after?"

Andromeda smiled again, and this time it reached her eyes. "Ted found the wreck and called an ambulance. He was so sweet— when he found out I didn't have any identification, he stuck around and helped pay for treatments. He started me off with a job, offered me a place to stay, we started dating, and then— well, the rest is history."

Ted grinned modestly. "I just got lost at the right time." He turned to Sirius. "I was heading to a barbecue of one of my mate's. Took a couple of wrong turns."

Sirius barked out a laugh. "Well, I'm glad you did."

Andromeda laughed along with the two men, amazed for a moment that fate had brought her there. She was glad she'd lost her memory— she'd never have met Ted otherwise. And she was glad Sirius had walked so sullenly into the coffee shop; if he hadn't taken his time with his order or been such a surly customer, she'd never have been reunited with him.

It wasn't much; news of her family had been disappointing at best. But she had gained one member. She'd found her family. It was small, it was strange. But it was perfect.


End file.
